Delusion

I wanted to call this entry “Slimeball.” But then I thought much too obvious.

***

Last week, Jerry Sandusky made the news again with his final statements in the court room just before he was sentenced. Both he and his wife Dottie are convinced that they are victims of an immense conspiracy, and just this morning on the radio I hear that Sandusky plans an appeal.

You do that, Jerry. You do that.

Meanwhile, the rest of us might be interested in watching Aaron Fisher, also known as “Sandusky Victim 1” on 20/20 tonight. Fisher endured Sandusky’s obsessive abuse from the ages of 12-15 before he tried to get some help. And he and his mother were betrayed by a town in which obviously corruption was pervasive. The high school Aaron attended tried to sweep the case under the rug. Aaron was gifted with a persistent, protective parent who was not part of the problem.

Aaron waited for even more years to get justice. His case wasn’t enough for prosecution. Until evidence solidified en masse, irrevocably, the system would not move forward to see justice done. Justice is slow, very slow.

What I admire the most about Aaron is her persistence. Even though he was depressed and he relived this experience over and over, he kept telling his story. How many more victims of sexual abuse stay silent after that first attempt of confession fails? How many more of us have been betrayed repeatedly by the adults in our lives who are supposed to protect us? Too damn many.

Jerry and Dottie believe that they did nothing wrong. They believe that they can pretend that the victimized boys had it out for them, and in this town, where no one has previously made waves and let a predator get away with what he wanted, they can continue to live the life they lived before.

No one, no one believes that you and your wife are innocent except you and your wife, Jerry. I expect nothing better from you, because you are the lowest form of life, much much lower than mold spore. You are a man that takes advantage of children AND abuses power to do it. You aren’t just the scum wad that abuses his children, although believe me, that would be bad enough. No, you’re the man who believes he’s invincible and you can do what you want. You saw those boys as objects, and by God, in University Park, Pennsylvania, where the sun is shielded by a giant Goddam football, you were untouchable.

I can’t see what’s to be gained by keeping you alive, Jerry. You have no remorse or penitence. You’re a mad dog. We shoot mad dogs don’t we?

At least those boys know you’re done. Those boys know, like I know, that the piece that’s not broken is them. You’re not getting out. The case is shut, closed. We loathe you. Not just former victims like me. The whole of the country. We LOATHE you.

You have done one good thing–you have made real people all over the country understand more what happens during sexual abuse. You have helped remove some of the stigma for those of us who have suffered. Because you’re such an obvious villain, no one confuses any of this as the victim’s fault. Except you and your wife. Delusional.

University Park, I have visited you once, when my friend Diana went to school at Penn State for a short year in 1988. I shake the dust of your town off my feet. Your penance should begin right away. What will you do to make sure this never happens again?

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Author: Catherine Schaff-Stump

Catherine Schaff-Stump writes fiction for children and young adults. Her most recent book, The Vessel of Ra, is the first book in the Klaereon Scroll series. She is currently working on its sequel, as well as penning the middle grade adventures of Abigail Rath, monster hunter.
View all posts by Catherine Schaff-Stump